


Need

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: Set during Rogue Nation.… What if Benji had accepted Ethan's request to return to D.C. after the events in Vienna?





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Narrated by Will & Self-Beta'd.  
> ~ An alternative 'take' on Rogue Nation, if you like.
> 
> ~ As always, I very much hope you like it. :-)

=========  
Need  
by TalithaX  
=========

 

Placing my coffee down on the desk, I gingerly lower myself into the chair and am about to reach for the painkillers in the inside pocket of my jacket when a nasally voice calling my name both diverts my attention and causes my already crappy mood to sour even further.

“Brandt!” Jonathon Miers, all round prick and bottom feeding oxygen thief, repeats with a melodramatic huff of annoyance. “Don’t tell me you lost your hearing in the fall.”

“Miers,” I murmur, plastering a bland and neutral – some may even call it ‘button pushing’ – smile, the one that I’ve honed to perfection during my time at Langley, across my lips as I slowly swivel around to face him as he stands, scowling down at me from the upper level of the open plan operations centre. “While I thank you for your concern, allow me to reassure you that my hearing is just fine.”

“Hallelujah,” he retorts, his scowl intensifying as, straining the seams of his cheap suit jacket, he folds his arms across the ever-increasing bulk of his chest. On a slow moving career trajectory to nowhere, Miers is low grade CIA Analyst with neither the desire nor the attributes to aspire to being a field agent. He also, as far as I’ve been able to deduce anyway, has an appetite for junk food that’s only surpassed by his apparent need to be a complete and utter asshole to just about everyone – other than Hunley and a young female analyst with a penchant for tight dresses and high heels and who thinks of him as the ‘creepy uncle’ sort and refuses to be alone in a room with him – who has the misfortune to cross his path. I’d feel sorry for him, only…

… I don’t give a fuck.

About Miers. Or the CIA. Or Hunley lording it over me all the fucking time and giving every indication of wanting to measure me for a collar and leash. Or any of the other petty-minded, suspicious, unfriendly morons that populate Langley like a fucking plague. Or the fact that Benji didn’t even bother to come and see me while I was stuck, concussed and feeling sorry for myself, in the infirmary.

Just…

… I’m done.

Worn down by Hunley, lack of sleep, a gnawing, ever-present sense of worry, and the feeling that I’m not only well and truly swimming against the tide but also struggling to keep my head above the water.

So…

… Whatever.

Miers, along with everyone else here at Langley can look down their noses at me all they like. Hunley can bark orders and issue forth with his snide comments about the IMF and, because I have to, I’ll simply keep my opinions to myself and do as I’m told. And if Benji’s found better things to do with his time than spend it with me, then fine. As I know I’m not exactly scintillating company anyway, it’s not as though I can blame him. I’ll just soldier on because I have to and, because it’s basically all that I’ve got at the moment to keep me going, I like to think that I’m making a difference by providing assistance to Ethan when and where I can. It’s not much, compared to what I’ve lost, but it’s enough.

For Ethan. I’m playing nice and sucking it up for the man I love and who I very much hope to one day be reunited with.

Until then, however…

Miers. And that fucking awful voice of his.

“Hunley wants to see you in the interrogation suite.”

Of course he does. Just as of course Miers had to wait until I’d limped my way across the office and sat down before… suddenly remembering… to pass on Hunley’s order. I mean, why share it with me the second I walked through the door when you can give yourself a cheap thrill by putting me out? Asshole.

“Lucky me.” Schooling my face into a neutral expression as I refuse to give anyone in the room the satisfaction of seeing how much pain I’m in and how all I’d really wanted to do was take my painkillers and drink my coffee in peace, I stand up and head slowly towards the door. There’s no point in asking Miers if he knows why Hunley is wanting me in interrogation, because even if he does know he wouldn’t tell me. Nor is there any point in worrying about just whatever it is I’m about to walk in to because, really, what will be will be. I highly doubt, given the extreme levels I’ve been going to in order to remain completely under the radar, he’s found any proof that I’ve been in contact with Ethan, but if he has, then good for him. It’ll prove that he’s actually smarter than I’ve ever given him credit for.

“As the Director’s waiting,” Miers mutters with a snort of laughter as I reach the door and pull it open, “you might want to avoid the stairs this time.”

There being nothing I can think of saying to Miers that doesn’t involve a few home truths and vile language, I ignore the fat fuck and walk out into the corridor. Free from my disinterested audience, I breathe deeply for a few seconds before mentally berating myself for leaving my coffee on the desk and beginning to make my way over to the elevator. Glancing at the door to the stairwell as I pass it, I shift the regret I’m feeling for my abandoned coffee to the far bigger sense of regret I have for my immense brain fade of three days ago. Even now, despite there being absolutely nothing to be achieved by going over it, I can still hardly believe that I was that… stupid.

Lightheaded from too little sleep, too much caffeine, no food, and having to listen to Hunley’s latest obsessive rant about how he wasn’t going to stop until he had Ethan exactly where he wanted him, I went to walk down the stairs and… fell spectacularly on my ass. And I really do mean spectacularly. One second I’m walking down the stairs, and the next I’m tumbling down an entire flight of them. I still don’t even know how I managed it, or for that matter how long I lay there unconscious. The small, endangered part of me that still wants to believe the best in people likes to think that the first person to use the stairs after me would have raised the alarm, but sadly I’m not sure and for all I know any number of the CIA’s so-called finest could have stepped over me and continued on their way before one finally called for the doctor. But, as it’s the closest thing I’ve got to a motto at the moment, whatever. What’s done is done. I fell down the stairs and, along with being so badly concussed that I had to spend two nights in the infirmary being monitored, I have all the bruising, cracks and sprains as a constant reminder of my inability to successfully put one foot after another. Shit, as the popular saying goes, happens. I was already mentally wrecked, and now I’m a physical wreck as well.

But…

… Whatever.

As feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to change anything, I just have to keep going. Never give up, never surrender and all that pep talk, gee-yourself-up rubbish.

It could, after all, be worse. I could be Miers, for example. Or Hunley, and his one-track mind.

Choosing against dry swallowing a couple of painkillers because I want my mind to be as clear as possible for whatever it is that Hunley’s about to hit me with, I take the elevator to the ground floor and, as a dull ache begins to emanate from just about every bone in my body, make my way through the door into the interrogation suite. There, just as I expected him to be, Hunley is standing by the door to the first of the dozen interview rooms that make up the suite. Oddly though, instead of looking annoyed at how long it’s taken me to reach him, he looks, dare I say it, a little on the smug, self-satisfied side and this immediately puts me on edge.

“Brandt. So nice of you to make it,” Director Hunley comments drily as, frowning slightly, he both slowly and very deliberately makes a point of looking me up and down. “I had been going to ask if you had perhaps taken the scenic route, but looking at you I have to confess surprise that you made it at all.”

“You summoned me, so here I am,” I reply with a shrug. “Oh. And, by the way, I appreciate your interest in my well being. Should it put your mind to rest at all, I do, as it happens, feel as bad as I apparently look, but...” Pausing, I give another shrug and – just wanting to get this over and done with – make to move towards the door into the interview room. “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

“Not this side,” Hunley states as he places his hand on the door handle and effectively blocks my path into the room. “The other one,” he adds, tilting his head towards the nearby door to the left.

“Observation?” It’s a meaningless question, given that I already know the answer, but I’m so taken aback by this unexpected turn of events that I just can’t help but give voice to it anyway. “Sir?”

“Unless there’s something you’d like to confess to,” Hunley replies, giving me a cunning look as he gestures towards the door, “yes, I want you on the other side of the glass.”

“Confess? What could I possibly have to confess about?” I murmur, countering his now quite suspicious look with an innocent one of my own as I turn towards the door. “As I’ve endeavoured on a number of occasions to make it clear to you, sir, my life is an open book.”

“Brandt, if your life is an open book, then I’m here to tell you now that all the pages are blank,” Hunley retorts as, all the time keeping a careful watch on me, he slowly begins to turn the door handle. “Now, go. Get into the room and we can begin.”

“Sir.” Curious, even though I’m also on edge and already fairly confident that I’m not going to like it, as to what Hunley’s ‘show and tell’ is going to be, I open the door and step into the both empty and dimly lit observation room. Designed for one purpose and one purpose only, the room is small, beige, and devoid of anything to divert your attention from what’s taking place on the other side of the two-way glass. The average CIA officer apparently lacking the skills to multi-task, all the monitoring and recording is done in a tech centre at the back of the interrogation suite as this means the agent playing the role of observer is able to give the interview their undivided attention without, I don’t know, falling prey to the pretty, flickering lights of the equipment. Even chairs and their threat of comfort are banned from the room and I know, despite my decrepit physical state and lack of caffeine, that I’m expected to stand, directly in front of the large glass panel that dominates the right wall, for however long it’s going to take.

Biting back a sigh as, for the first time, I idly wish I hadn’t been so adamant in my refusal of Dr Hughes’ offer of a walking stick, I limp over to the glass and watch as Hunley flicks a switch that brings the interview room into picture perfect reality. While no more carefully or attractively designed than the one I’m in, this other room at least has a plain black table, complete with equally plain black chairs on either side, set up in the middle of it and, to my genuine – as in, sucking back my breath and having to brace myself by placing my hand flat on the glass – surprise there, sitting on the ‘bad’ side, is Benji. 

Dressed, not in his usual, token-at-best, work attire of a short sleeved shirt, drab tie, and whatever trousers he happened to first lay his hands on, but in an Empire Strikes Back t-shirt and grey cardigan that passes as his preferred style of vintage-meets-hipster-meets-this-is-me-deal-with-it, he looks both exhausted and exasperated and, for the life of me, I don’t know what to make of any of it.

Hunley’s interrogating Benji? Why? What’s he supposed to have done? And why does Hunley want me here having to listen in?

This…

This is different from the tedious, yet predictable, polygraph scenario and I don’t like it.

I don’t like it at all.

Hunley clearly has the upper hand for an unfortunate and unexpected change, and knowing that I’m behind the proverbial eight ball is causing a dreadful, sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. If he knows something, if… Ethan’s location has somehow been compromised, I…

… I don’t know what I’m going to do. 

Benji…

… What have you done?

Yes. He knows that I have a way of contacting Ethan, but that quite literally is all that he knows. He doesn’t know – just how astonishingly difficult it is – how many hoops I have to jump through in order to get my message through, and nor does he know how many times I’ve done it or, for that matter, when I’ve done it. Should, however, Hunley have managed to work this out and he’s pressuring Benji into spilling the beans, so to speak, because he mistakenly views him as the weaker link, then…

… Needless to say my already fairly average life is going to get a lot worse before it has any chance of getting better. 

Sliding my hands into the pockets of my trousers, I position myself directly in the middle of the glass window and, resigned as much to my fate as I am to the fact Hunley effectively has me as a captive audience, both watch and listen to the scene being played out before me.

“So that I can be crystal clear on events, Agent Dunn, let us start once again at the very beginning,” Hunley announces in his very best no-nonsense, professional tone as, presenting his back to the glass, he takes a seat at the table in front of Benji.

“You mean the first two times you heard it haven’t been enough?” Benji complains, slumping back in his seat and giving Hunley a look that’s as plaintive as it is weary. “Sir, my story isn’t going to change. What I’ve already told you is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and… all that. I have nothing to hide and have been completely honest with you.”

“That’s as may be,” Hunley replies, “but I still expect you to go through it with me again. So… From the beginning. After Friday’s polygraph, you…”

“I went back to my desk,” Benji interrupts with a sigh as he leans forward and rests his hands flat on the table. “I dutifully went back my desk like the dutiful little agent that I am and, as I was about to get stuck back into it, the mail arrived. I discovered, much to my surprise, upon opening the first envelope that I had won tickets to the opera, Turandot.”

“That just happened to be in Vienna,” Hunley states a little sarcastically as, clearly a lot more comfortable with things than Benji is, he relaxes back in his seat. “You didn’t perhaps think this was a little strange?”

“Not really, no. I enter a lot of competitions, you see. I just don’t keep track of them. That way, should I win something, the surprise is even greater because, well, I’d have forgotten about entering it in the first place.”

Benji having a penchant for entering competitions, while news to me, isn’t something I can offer an opinion – or even comment – on. Given that just about all we’ve talked about these past six months is how much we hate the CIA and miss both Ethan and our old team, for all I know he really could have turned competition mad. Hell. He may have even mentioned it to me but, too entrenched in feeling sorry for myself and wanting to vent, I simply didn’t pay it any attention.

Alternatively, and this wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest as I already wouldn’t have a clue as to what’s going on here, he’s spinning Hunley an Oscar winning tale of bullshit for some reason that, hopefully, will soon become clear.

If nothing else though, at least I now know why Benji never visited me in the infirmary. He was in Vienna. I mean, of course he was.

“And you use Langley as your address?” Hunley queries coolly.

Benji gives a small shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. Some competitions only allow you to enter once, but if you use a difference address you can sometimes trick it in to letting you enter twice. Seriously though, sir, we’ve been through all of this before and it doesn’t change...”

“You would be wise to remember that you are not the one in charge here, Dunn,” Hunley states, cutting Benji off. “Things, as I’m sure you realise, could get a lot worse for you if you don’t cooperate fully at every turn.”

“Sir.”

“Very well then. You received tickets to an opera in Vienna and thought, what the hell, let’s go.”

“I hadn’t seen Turandot before, I’ve always liked Vienna, and, yes, I decided on the spur-of-the-moment that I may as well just up and go.”

“You didn’t suspect anything… untoward… about the tickets just showing up?”

“As I’ve already mentioned, in fact, I’m beginning to sound like a cracked record on the subject, I enter, then forget about, competitions. I just accepted that I’d won them fair and square. If you must know, seeing that I’d finally won something made my day.”

“So… Off you went to Vienna.”

“Yes, sir,” Benji confirms with a sigh. “Off I went to Vienna.”

“You didn’t tell Agent Brandt where you were going?” Hunley asks, leaning forward and, so I imagine anyway, fixing Benji with a look.

“No, sir. I didn’t.”

“I thought you two, with your misguided sense of loyalty to the IMF and longing for the bad old days, were friends.”

“We are friends, and our loyalty isn’t...”

“Yet you didn’t share your excitement with winning tickets to Turandot with him,” Hunley interjects. “I hate to say this, Dunn, but I find this very hard to believe.”

“I wanted to,” Benji replies with another sigh as he once again slumps back in his seat. “In fact, I’d been on my way to find him when I heard the news of his fall in the stairwell. Wanting to see how he was, I made my way over to the infirmary and, upon hearing that he was still being checked over by the doctor, reluctantly decided that I couldn’t wait and needed to be on my way. Yes, I wanted to see him, and, yes, of course I would have told him if I had seen him, but I still had a bag to pack before going to the airport and time, as they say, was of the essence. I also, before you ask, didn’t get in contact with Will while I was away, and the reason for this is because I knew he needed his rest and… uh… most definitely did not need to hear about my unfortunate experiences in Vienna. Shit! I still don’t know how I’m going to tell him about...”

“As that is under control and not something you need to worry about, Agent Dunn, let us move on to those… unfortunate events… in Vienna,” Hunley states, once again calmly stopping Benji in his tracks as, for no reason other than I can’t help myself, I take a step closer to the glass.

Vienna…

Something obviously happened in Vienna.

Something that, or so it seems, Benji doesn’t want to be the one to share with me, yet Hunley… wants me to hear all about.

Honestly. Uneasy doesn’t even begin to cover how any of this is making me feel. 

“Sir, is this really achieving anything? I’ve told you...”

“You arrived in Vienna and took the train from the airport to the Opera House,” Hunley prompts in a less than subtle way of getting Benji back on track.

“Yes, sir. I was making my way along the platform when a random man, just a stranger paid off to make the drop, shoved a large envelope into my hands before disappearing into the crowd.”

“You didn’t think this was peculiar?”

“Of course I bloody thought it was peculiar!” Benji exclaims as he shoots Hunley a look of long sufferance. “As I’ve tried, apparently to no avail, to make clear, I was only in Vienna because I honestly thought I’d won the tickets to the opera. I had no reason to think otherwise and was shocked and, if you must know, a little put out when I opened the envelope and discovered that it contained an earpiece and other pieces of IMF tech.”

IMF tech?

What the fuck?

I know I fell down the stairs and hit my head, but right now I’m beginning to feel as though I’ve actually been living under a rock and am the last to know anything.

“You weren’t, I don’t know, excited to find yourself so unexpectedly back in the field?” Hunley queries somewhat pointedly.

“Okay. Fine. At first, yeah, of course I was,” Benji replies. “I had no idea what was going on, but… Yeah. For all of a minute or two it felt good. Contrary to the way you have me tethered to a desk, I’m a field agent and...”

“Not with the CIA you’re not,” Hunley states dismissively as he taps his finger heavily down on the desk. “Getting back, however, to the contents of the envelope… You put the earpiece in, and the voice on the other end was...”

“Ethan’s,” Benji responds as, his expression pained, he lowers his gaze and sighs. “The voice was Ethan’s.”

Ethan?

Ethan was behind Benji’s surprise trip to Vienna?

Why…

… Why am I only hearing about this now?

“For the record, you’re saying that the voice in your ear was that of Ethan Hunt, yes?”

“For the umpteenth Goddamn time, yes! The voice in my ear was Ethan Hunt’s. Just… How many bloody times do I have to go over this for you, huh?”

“So Ethan Hunt was responsible for your tickets to the opera,” Hunley continues, calmly ignoring Benji’s minor outburst, “and you didn’t actually win a competition at all.”

“No. I didn’t win a competition,” Benji grinds out, “and, yes, Ethan Hunt sent me the tickets. He.. tricked me in to going to Vienna because... because he wanted my help.”

“Your help?”

“Yes. He…” Trailing off, Benji pulls a face and rubs his hand over his forehead. “As much as I dislike sitting here and having to tell you this, I… I hated hearing it from Ethan even more,” he adds quietly. “It… It was just so unexpected that even now I’m struggling to believe it even happened, that he… he could even be behind such a terrible thing. It… He… Shit! I don’t know what’s happened to change him so badly, but he’s no longer the Ethan I knew.”

“That’s as may be, but, please, stick to the facts,” Hunley mutters. “What was it that Ethan Hunt wanted your assistance with?”

His expression as anguished as I’ve ever seen it, Benji sits up straight and looks Hunley directly in the eye. “He wanted me to help him assassinate the Austrian Chancellor.”

He…

… What?

Feeling…

Oh God.

Feeling as though the walls are closing in on me as I throw everything I’ve got into not succumbing to a full on panic attack, I clench my fingers around the wooden ledge under the glass and focus everything I’ve got on simply remembering to breathe.

Just…

No.

This isn’t happening.

It…

… It’s all just some sort of elaborate hoax dreamt up by Hunley to try to break me.

Ethan, he…

No. Never.

He wouldn’t be behind the Chancellor’s assassination.

He just wouldn’t.

And, Benji…

… Benji can’t be sitting there betraying Ethan.

He just can’t.

Oh dear God.

This…

This just can’t be happening. 

Too rattled by what I’m witnessing to think straight, I only half listen as Benji tells the rest of his story – and that’s what it has to be, just a story – to Hunley as my mind races all over the place and I momentarily wonder if this is what insanity feels like.

I don’t…

I won’t…

I can’t…

… Believe it.

Not any of it.

Ethan didn’t arrange for Benji to go to Vienna in order to help him kill the Chancellor. And Benji didn’t refuse to help before foiling Ethan’s shot at the opera. And Ethan certainly didn’t have a back up plan in place that saw a bomb going off in the Chancellor's car. And Benji most definitely didn’t run straight back to D.C. to sell Ethan out to Hunley.

No.

No, no, no!

As there is absolutely no reason for Ethan to have had any interest in the Austrian Chancellor, Benji, for reasons known only to Benji, is just making it all up and telling Hunley something he wants to hear.

And…

God help me.

… I hate him for it.

I hate Benji for stabbing Ethan in the back, presumably for personal gain of some unknown description, and I…

… I also hate how helpless and… lost... it’s making me feel.

Benji was my only friend at Langley, the only person I could trust, and now…

Now it’s clear that I don’t even know him.

“Having had the rug so spectacularly pulled out from beneath my feet in regards to Ethan’s true nature,” Benji continues as, too light headed and dazed to trust myself to move, I continue to stand, frozen to the spot in front of the glass, “I did the only thing I could think of doing when I left him, and that’s slip a tracking device in his pocket. This, of course, is dependent on him both not finding it and keeping the jacket with him, but it… It was the only option available to me. I was unarmed and knew I couldn’t subdue him on my own. That, and I was also wary of what other back up he may have had hidden around the place. Look… Sir… Having both failed to save the Chancellor and made an enemy in Ethan by refusing to help him, my only goal was to get back to D.C. as quickly as I possibly could as he… He has to be stopped.”

He…

Benji put a fucking tracker on Ethan?

“As the tracker did not go offline until a few hours ago in Moscow, I have already sent the Special Activities Branch to his last known location,” Hunley declares as he has the nerve to glance over his shoulder and give me a smug look. “Don’t worry, Dunn. Ethan Hunt’s days as a free, possibly even… living… man are very soon to come to an end. I know this has been hard for you, that seeing your so-called friend show his true colours has come as a terrible shock, but you did the right thing by coming to me and, as was always going to be the case, the CIA will be the ones to clean up the IMF’s final mess.”

The…

… Special Activities Branch?

Thanks to Benji and his Godforsaken tracker, Hunley’s unleashed his fucking pet hit squad on Ethan?

This…

This is like a living nightmare that I’m never going to escape from.

“Sir, I… I still don’t believe...”

“You need to face the facts, Dunn. Ethan Hunt has gone rogue and there is nothing either you or I can do to bring him back. Having seen in for yourself, you know that I’m right.”

“Sir...” Looking – and as far as I’m concerned this is well deserved – abjectly miserable, Benji pushes his chair back and stands up. “Am I free to go?”

“For now.” Nodding, Hunley stands up and walks over to the door. “I expect that you have learned your lesson and now know where your loyalty truly lies.”

“With the CIA, sir,” Benji replies with a grim smile. “Please, I… I know I have no right to ask this, but if there’s any updates from the Special Activities Branch I’d like to made aware of them. Having been burnt by him once I don’t want to leave anything to chance ever again.”

“If there’s any news I will make sure that it reaches you,” Hunley responds, opening the door and gesturing Benji through it. “Do not, however, think that this is fully over. While you are free to go for the moment, you are to be available for further questioning at the drop of a hat. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

Watching Benji walk free striking me as being the last straw, I – lose all reason and see every shade of red in existence – release my grip on the ledge and, on legs that barely feel as though they’re connected to my body, hurry over to the door and pull it open with such force that it actually rocks on its hinges.

“Ah, Agent Brandt, am I correct in assuming that you too have now seen the...”

Ignoring Hunley, hell, stalking past him as though he wasn’t even there, I grab Benji by the shoulders and slam him back against the wall. “Judas,” I hiss as he gazes back at me wide eyed and open mouthed. “You lying bastard! How dare you betray Ethan like this! I’ve seen some lowlife displays in my life, and that… that fucking act of yours in there is easily the worst!”

“Will! I...” Benji shakes his head and gives me an imploring look as he makes no attempt to free himself. “I had to! I… I had no choice...”

“Don’t! Don’t even...” Falling abruptly silent as Hunley closes his hand tightly around my strapped wrist and the red mist I’d been operating under gives way to seeing stars before my eyes from the sudden jolt of pain, I gasp and, feeling as though I’m in danger of being sick, sway on my feet as I endeavour to remain upright.

“Will? Shit! Are you okay?” Squirming away from the wall, Benji shifts next to me and places his hand on my arm. “Please, sir, let him go. I… I think you’re hurting him.”

“I was only trying...” Scowling, Hunley shrugs and lets go of my now throbbing wrist. “Does he look like he’s going to be sick to you?”

“Possibly. He… He is very pale,” Benji replies dubiously as he gently links his arm around mine and, basically, stops me from sliding down onto the floor. “I don’t think you should have grabbed him on his damaged wrist.”

“You don’t, huh?” Hunley mutters, his scowl deepening as, perhaps having some sort of phobia about vomit that I’m not aware of, he takes a couple of steps back. “Just… Get him out of here.”

“And take him where? The infirmary?”

“I don’t care. Just get him out of my sight before he does something I don’t want to see like faint or throw up!”

“Actually, sir, if it’s okay with you I think it would be for the best if I took him home,” Benji murmurs hesitantly. “Clearly he’s in no fit state to work, and...”

“Fine. Whatever. Drive him home,” Hunley interrupts as he begins to stride off. “Just make sure you’ve got your phones on at all times and, while I’m sure I do not even need to say this, don’t leave town.”

“What?” The pain dulling just enough for a vague semblance of… reality… to settle over me, I try unsuccessfully to free my arm from Benji’s and – seriously, when you’re going to make a scene you may as well to a good job of it – groan. “No! I don’t want to go anywhere with...”

“Either use Dunn as a chauffeur or I book you in for an immediate, not to mention thorough, psych evaluation,” Hunley retorts over his shoulder as, clearly wanting to put as much distance between us as he can manage, he doesn’t slow his pace and simply opens the door that will take him out of the interrogation suite. “Don’t think I don’t mean it, Brandt, as, take my word for it, you’re not exactly bathing yourself in glory at the moment.”

“Come on, Will,” Benji murmurs, “just ignore him and let me take you home. I get that you’re worked up, but...”

“Worked up?” I repeat, the disbelief that I’m feeling in regards Benji’s calm, ‘everything’s perfectly normal’ manner coming through loud and clear in my voice as I glare at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m not… worked up. I’m pissed! Just… How dare you sit before Hunley and sell Ethan out, huh? I… I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I… don’t want to be in the same zip code as you at the moment, let alone get in a car with you! So let me go and get out of my fucking sight!”

Shaking his head, Benji flashes me a thin lipped smile and further tightens his arm around mine. “Now I know you’re not thinking at your best,” he comments. “I mean, risking a psych eval in preference to being driven home? That’s just not normal and, as you’re friend...”

“You’re not my friend! Hell. You’re not anyone’s...”

“And as you’re friend,” Benji finishes as though I’d never opened my mouth, “I’m going to have to insist that I take you home. You can sulk, plot revenge, or yell at me all you like in the car, but, and just call me masochistic if you like, I’m not going to take no for an answer. You’re clearly in pain, possibly even in a bit of shock...”

“Shock? Damn it, Benji! You sold him out!”

“I only did what I had to do,” he replies, giving me a sad look as he begins to pull me slowly towards the door. “I did what I had to do, Will, just as you would have. Now… Please. I get that you hate me at the moment, but just let me take you home anyway. You don’t want to be here any more than I do and maybe, I don’t know, maybe I can try to explain.”

“Save your breath,” I retort as, wearily accepting I’m in no fit state to get behind the wheel of a car myself and really do just want to get the fuck out of here, I give up and let Benji lead me out of the interrogation suite and towards the exit into the parking lot. “You can drive me home, but that’s it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. In fact, I don’t even want to hear your voice!”

“I’m sorry, Will, I really am. This...”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“It wasn’t meant to go down like this. It… It was all just one big fuck up after another.”

“Keep talking and I’ll find another way home.”

“Will…”

“Shut up, Benji. Just shut up.”

Sighing, Benji comes to a stop by a vending machine and, to my surprise, lets go of his hold on my arm in order to pull some coins out of his pocket and purchase a bottle of water. “Here,” he mutters, shoving the water into my hands before once again heading off in the direction of the exit. 

“What’s this for?” I query, trailing after him. “It’s going to take something a lot stronger than water if you’re wanting to...”

“It’s for you to take a couple of the painkillers in your jacket pocket with,” Benji interrupts, glancing at me over his shoulder as he reaches the exit and holds the door open. “Hate me, and bitch at me all you like, Will, but don’t be a martyr and remain in pain just because you’re too busy feeling pissed off. It’s just not worth it.”

Blindsided a little by Benji’s perceptiveness and, let’s face, undeserved given the way I’m carrying on, kindness, I give a curt nod and allow him to guide me out into the parking lot. “You didn’t need…”

“Yeah. I did. Now… Come on. I take it you’ve got your car keys?”

Nodding again, I reach into the pocket of my pants and pull out my keys. “It’s in its usual spot by the gate,” I state, handing them over to Benji as the fresh morning air, instead of reinvigorating me, leaves me feeling even more light headed and dithery.

I…

I just…

… Don’t know what’s happening anymore. 

Or, for that matter, what’s even real.

Has Ethan really turned… to the dark side? I don’t want to believe it, and it honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, but… Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe Benji’s story… isn’t… just a story. And if it isn’t just a story and I have to face up to Ethan, the man I love and thought I knew, having gone rogue, then…

Again, I just don’t know what I’m going to do.

All I do know, and of this I’m certain, is that the last time I felt this – clueless – out of sorts and helpless was that dreadful day before the Senate Committee. Hunley had won, the IMF was no more, and then, just when I thought things couldn’t have gotten any worse, there was Ethan’s phone call.

He…

He needed my help.

And I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do. I had to tell him that the CIA had swallowed the IMF and that my hands were tied.

And…

… It was the last time I heard his voice.

Ending the call, I felt as though the sky was falling in on me, and…

… I feel the same way now. 

Lost. Helpless. Out of my depth and useless.

“Come on, Will,” Benji murmurs, opening the passenger door to my Audi before placing his hand very lightly on my shoulder. “I know things seem pretty bad, but they’ll get better, I promise.”

“Forgive me if I can’t take your word for it,” I reply, letting him help me into the car without either complaint or hesitation. “I… I just want to go home...”

… Where I can go to bed, pull the covers over my head, and, if I’m really lucky, not wake up again until all of this is over.

“Your wish is my command,” Benji replies with a quick smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he closes my door and jogs around the front of the car to the driver’s side. Getting in, he pulls on his seat belt and starts the engine as, more relieved to be finally sitting down than I want to let on, I busy myself with both my own seat belt and washing down a couple of pills with a mouthful of water. “Now, how about we put the radio on, yeah?”

Returning the lid to the water bottle, I’m about to reply that I’d prefer silence over the inane chatter of the radio when, glancing at Benji and seeing the expectant look on his face, the penny drops and I nod. “Sounds good,” I reply, pulling my iPhone out of my pocket before opening the glove compartment and retrieving what looks for all the world like the standard Apple USB charging cord. “Have you got a particular station in mind?” I add, playing along with the ruse as I plug the phone into the car’s USB port and bring up the required program on its screen. 

“Your car, so your choice,” Benji responds, watching me until I’ve turned the radio on and, with a few more taps of my finger, activated the program that filters the live radio feed directly into the listening devices hidden in both my phone and car. “Good to go?” he adds, putting his foot on the accelerator and turning the car in the direction of the boom gates that will take us out of Langley. 

“We’re good,” I confirm, placing the phone on the dashboard and relaxing back in my seat. “As it’s now all they’re going to hear, I hope they like college radio.”

“I hope they don’t, and, while I’m at it, I also don’t care how wonderful the CIA think they are,” Benji murmurs with a half smile, “we always did have far better tech.”

“We were better, period.” Pausing, I glance at Benji and shrug. “I’m still not sure I want to talk to you, though.”

“You don’t have to talk,” he replies as the boom gate lifts up and he drives out onto the road. “Just listen.”

“Actually, I think I’ve already heard too much this morning, and would rather...”

“That’s just it. You only heard what I, and for that matter, Ethan, too, wanted you to hear,” Benji interjects as he reaches over and gives my upper arm a gentle squeeze. “Will… Please. I know things look bad, but they’re not. In fact, believe it or not, they’re actually better than they have been in ages.”

“So you say.” Shrugging, I hold my hands up in a display of surrender and, accepting that for the second time this morning I’m effectively a captive audience, add, “But… Seeing as I can’t stop you, just get on with it.”

“Mmm… First though, even though I know I’m risking pushing yet another button by deviating off course,” he murmurs, giving me another half smile as he brings the car to a stop at a red light, “how are you, honestly? It’s just… When Hunley grabbed your wrist I seriously thought you were going to pass out, and… if you’re in pain, or if there’s something, anything, I can get you, then you just have to say.”

Touched, even if it does fly in the face of the big black clouds of doubt hanging over him at the moment, by Benji’s obvious concern, I give him a half smile of my own and shake my head. “There’s nothing you can get for me, and… I’m fine.”

“You didn’t look fine. Hell… You’re still not exactly looking like my definition of fine, either.”

“I’m sprained, bruised, and everything aches. I also feel as though I’ve been shoved head first down Alice’s rabbit hole, but other than that I’m as fine as I can be,” I reply. “As for Hunley, I was so busy frothing at the mouth with anger and disbelief at the time that, well, I’d actually forgotten about the pain being anywhere other than in my head, so...”

“When he grabbed you it suddenly came flooding back?”

“Pretty much. That, and he managed to press down heavily on the bone. But… Whatever. The sudden pain shocked me, but the pills are helping now and… I’m fine. I… I just need answers and probably a lie down, that’s all.”

“As I can help with both of those,” Benji responds as, hiding his still quite obvious concern behind a too bright smile, he drives across the intersection and takes the right hand turn that will take us to my home, “I’m just going to get straight into it by saying only half of what you witnessed in the interview room is true. And that, as you’re no doubt hoping, is the first half. Yes, I did return to my desk to find tickets to Turandot in Vienna, and, yes, I decided, completely on the spur-of-the-moment, to fly to Austria just to go to the opera. Then, once I was there, yes, I did receive a mysterious package from a complete stranger, and, yes it was Ethan’s voice that came through the earpiece. But that, however, is where Hunley’s version of the truth ends. The rest of the bullshit I fed him, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, was at Ethan’s insistence. He was adamant that I give Hunley the sort of story he wanted to hear as, well, it would make things look better for me.”

“What about the Chancellor, though?” I query, swivelling in my seat in order to give Benji my full attention. “As I saw the news reports of his death, are you sitting there telling me that...” God. I don’t even want to say it. “Uh… Ethan didn’t have anything to do with his death?”

“Of course he didn’t!” Benji declares adamantly, as he grimaces and tightens his hands around the steering wheel. “I know I did a good job of selling the BS to Hunley, but seriously, Will, that’s all it was. Complete and utter bullshit. Ethan had gone to the trouble of getting me to Vienna because he believed that creepy looking guy with the glasses from his sketch was going to be there and he wanted my technical assistance in trying to find him. That’s all. I was supposed to identify and locate the man, and then get out, only...” He trails off and shrugs. “Only things went pear shaped, didn’t they...”

“When don’t they,” I mutter as, clinging somewhat desperately to the hope of this new tale of events being the truth, I give Benji an expectant look and wait with mounting impatience for him to continue.

“Story of our lives, huh,” he murmurs drily before, with a fleeting smirk, getting back on track. “So… The Chancellor. The Chancellor’s appearance was as much of a surprise to Ethan as it was to me and, at first, he wasn’t even of any interest. I had my… uh… orders, and, sitting in a closet staring at a screen, that’s what I was doing while Ethan prowled around. Then two assassins appeared on my radar and Ethan was tasked with both taking them out and, as, yes, he was their target, protecting the Chancellor. When I spotted another assassin in the sound booth, it became impossible to protect him from the two guns trained on him so, Ethan, in desperation took a shot himself and deliberately winged him.”

“Thus getting the Chancellor to safety and locking down the opera house...”

“Uh-huh. I went one way, Ethan went another, and… the Chancellor was quickly herded into his car and sent on his way. Only...”

“The car exploded.”

“The car exploded,” Benji confirms with a sigh. “The Syndicate had a back up plan in place in case their assassins failed, and… when they did, they used it. There was nothing anyone could have done. We… We thought we’d succeeded in keeping him safe, but… we hadn’t. We hadn’t achieved anything, and it was when we met up again that Ethan insisted I return to D.C. and… sell him out. Will… It was all just a fuck up and you were never meant to become collateral damage. If I could have got to you before Hunley rounded me up, I would have. In fact, I regret that as much as anything. Hearing my story would have been awful for you and I’m sorry, so incredibly sorry, that you were hit with it like that. Ethan hasn’t gone crazy, he didn’t assassinate the Chancellor, I would never betray him or… hurt you, and… Shit! I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t do a better job of protecting you.”

“It… It’s not your job to protect me, Benji,” I murmur as, gloriously, my fucked up little world suddenly rights itself on its axis and, for the first time in months, I can feel a tiny bud of hope bloom within me, “and I’m sorry for my over-the-top, drama queen behaviour. Not thinking at my best, I stupidly allowed doubt to overwhelm me and… uh… took my frustrations out on you when I shouldn’t have.”

It…

It was all just an act.

Of course it was.

Ethan’s still… my Ethan, and Benji’s still… the Benji I know and am lucky to call my friend. He didn’t, he could never sell Ethan out, and…

… It was all just a story to send Hunley off on yet another wild goose chase.

Thank. God.

Only…

Fuck.

Proving that when you’re down you’re really fucking down, what this now means is that when Ethan needed assistance he called on Benji.

Not me.

And both just like that and no doubt ridiculously, I feel as though the walls are once again closing in on me and making a mockery of everything I’ve clung to these past six months. 

“Hey… Hey, Will… Are you okay there?” Benji queries, taking his eyes off the heavy traffic just long enough to give me a concerned look. “I was going to say that there’s nothing to apologise for as, for one, I get it, and secondly, you reacted exactly as I would have if I’d been in your shoes, but… Shit. You’re worrying me. My explanation was meant to, fuck, I don’t know, light your world with sunshine and rainbows, not fill it with even more dark clouds.”

“I… Sorry...” Sighing, I toy with the water bottle on my lap for a few seconds before turning my head to gaze out the passenger side window. “You don’t have to worry about me, Benji. I’m fine. Honest. It’s just...” Trailing off, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Going on both your expression and the way you won’t even look at me, I think it actually matters a lot,” Benji replies. “So, come on. Talk to me. Even yell at me if you want to. Will… I wasn’t here for you when you were in the infirmary, and I left you in the dark as to what I was up to, but… I’m here now and I want you to talk to me. So… If you’ve still got any doubts about what happened in Vienna, or...”

“I’m jealous,” I whisper, cutting Benji off as I wearily give up on the idea of fighting and decide that, as he asked, he may as well get his answer. “I… Worse. I don’t even know what I’m more jealous of. The fact you actually got to see Ethan, or the fact that he… that he turned to you when he needed help. You probably think that’s pathetic, that… I’m pathetic, but it hurts. Knowing that I’m… not needed… hurts a lot.”

“Damn it, Will! Shit!” Benji exclaims with a degree of unexpected vehemence that causes me to swivel back around in my seat to have a look at him. “This… Damn it. None of this is going to plan,” he adds, banging his hands on the steering wheel with obvious frustration. 

“Hey… It’s okay,” I murmur as, not wanting to impress my own ever darkening mood on Benji, I reach out my hand and place it on his shoulder. “Like I said, you’re not to worry about me or blame yourself for anything. My head, it… it’s all over the place at the moment and I don’t want you to take anything personally. I’ll get over it.”

“But that’s just it. You shouldn’t have to… get over anything,” Benji mutters. “If things had gone to plan...” Pausing, he glances at me and dredges up a grim smile. “Fuck it. I hadn’t been going to mention this because, well, it’s history and what’s done is done and all that, but… Listen to me, Will. There were two tickets to the opera on my desk and, even though I thought it was just going to be a weekend away, I was heading off to find you in the hope of convincing you to come with me when the news of your fall stopped me. Then… When I got to Vienna and things finally calmed down enough to actually talk, the first thing Ethan wanted to know was why I hadn’t brought you with me. Do you hear what I’m saying? He… expected… you to be there as well, and the only reason he sent the tickets addressed to me was because he knew you’re under even closer scrutiny than I am. He wanted you there and, believe me when I say that he was upset that you weren’t. Hell… I’m not stretching the truth to say he wanted you there as much as you… wish… you’d been there. It… As you can see though, it was all just one fuck up after another. Nothing went to plan, and nothing is… still… going to plan.”

“Oh. He… wanted me there?” I murmur cautiously as, despite already knowing that I’m only going to sound needy in the process, yes, I really do just have to go there. 

Benji nods and, with a display of confidence I’m not used to seeing in his driving, changes lanes to get around a slow moving bus without so much as glancing in the side mirror. “Trust me. He wanted, and… expected… you to be there.”

“So… If I hadn’t tripped over my own feet...”

“You’d have gone to Vienna, and… even if the Chancellor still ended up dead, things wouldn’t be as messy as they are now. But… Don’t. Don’t for a second blame yourself. What happened in the stairwell was an accident. One of those… shit happens… moments that can happen to absolutely anyone at any time. You were out of action, and that’s all there was to it.”

“I still wish...”

“Don’t. Just don’t go there. You wish you’d got to go to Vienna. I wish… Uh… Ethan wishes the same thing, yet… It’s all history now and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

“I know that, but...” 

“What’s done is done,” Benji interrupts with the tiniest hint of exasperation entering his voice. “Will… Please. I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how all of this… mess… has gone down, but there’s just nothing I can do about it. I can’t wave a magic wand and make you feel better anymore that I can practice necromancy and bring back the Chancellor. I wish I could, but… I can’t. I just can’t.”

Realising, hopefully better late than never, that Benji’s no more enjoying the position he’s found himself in than I am, I slowly nod and decide that the time has come to slightly change the subject. “Sorry,” I murmur apologetically. “You’re right. Of course you are. Neither of us like it, but what’s done is done. So… Moving on here, I just have to ask… I don’t suppose Ethan gave any indication of how much longer this Syndicate… thing… is likely to go for?”

His expression clouding over, Benji gives the smallest of shrugs and, clearly having picked up some bad habits from Ethan over the years, presses his foot harder on the accelerator to drive through what I’d already accepted to be a red light. “How long is a piece of string, you mean,” he mutters with a notable degree of bitterness. “This… Syndicate thing, as you call it, is all one step forward, two steps back. For every small gain, there’s weeks of nothing and just lurking around. Don’t get me wrong, it… Uh… I’m sure that it’s worth it, that the Syndicate is very much real and needs to be stopped, but it’s taking, and is likely to… keep… taking a hell of a lot of hard work and sacrifice.”

And…

… That, right there, is just about the last thing I wanted to hear.

No end in sight.

Ethan, because he knows no other way, will continue to fight the good fight for however long it takes, while I…

… Stagnate.

I don’t hold it, this sense of pervading misery that’s taken to hovering over me, against him any more than I hold him responsible for my current lot in life. Believing it to be important, I chose to dutifully join the CIA, just as I chose to risk everything by getting what little intel I could to Ethan. I thought it was the right thing to do, and I take a fair amount of satisfaction out of knowing that I was able to make at least a small difference on a couple of occasions. Now however, now that the months are dragging on and Benji just confirmed that things could continue this way indefinitely, I feel like giving up.

I miss Ethan and want to see him so badly that I need something to both hope for and hang on to. Without it, without having some idea, however small, as to when it will be all over and we’ll be together again, I…

… Honestly don’t know how I’m going to carry on.

“That’s… what I was afraid you were going to say,” I whisper, breathing deeply through my mouth for a few seconds as, irrationally, I feel as though I’m once again in danger of having a panic attack. It’s selfish… I’m being melodramatic… Keep Calm And Get A Grip… Perhaps Hunley should just ship me off to his pet shrinks after all…

I can’t…

I…

… Can’t do this.

“Hey! Shit. Will? Are you okay? Do you want me to pull over so you can get some fresh air or something?” The questions fall out of Benji’s mouth in a rush as, without waiting for an answer, he cuts off an untold number of vehicles – if the sound of horns and squealing brakes is anything to go by – in order to bring the car to a stop down a side street. “I get that that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but...”

“I just don’t think I can keep doing this,” I murmur, closing my eyes as I rub my hands over my face. “I… I’m sorry, Benji… I know you don’t want to be having to listen to this, and I wish I could be all stoic as I know, trust me, I do, that you’re hating all of this as much as I am, but I… I’m honestly not sure that I can carry on like this. I’m hardly sleeping, don’t want to eat, am living on caffeine and, because it’s about the only way I can get any sleep, whisky, hate Langley and just about everyone in it, and… along with missing Ethan so much that it hurts I… I feel useless. I thought I was holding it together and not letting any of it get to me, but clearly I was only deluding myself. It’s just… The thought of having to go back there tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, it...”

“Fuck!” Benji exclaims, effectively rendering me silent as my eyes fly open and, apparently just for good measure, he slams his hands down on the steering wheel. “This… Fuck it! As none of this has gone to plan from the very beginning, why should it start now, huh?” he adds cryptically as he turns to fully face me. “This, oddly enough, was not the plan, but… What would you say if I told you that I could get you to Ethan?”

“What?” Caught hook, line and sinker, by Benji’s bombshell… offer, I stare at him wide-eyed. “Benji… What are you talking about?”

“I not only know where he is, but also how to get there,” he replies, his gaze locked on mine as I hang off his every word, “and I can take you there. It wasn’t the plan, but I’ll be damned if I’m just going to stand by while that shit hole Langley sucks the life out of you, so… This is it. This is a one time offer that you’re going to have about a minute to think long and hard about. Will… If you really want to be with Ethan, I can make it happen. You’ll be going rogue from the CIA and could be charged with treason if caught. Hell, you could even end up with Hunley’s attack dogs from the Special Activities Branch yapping at your heels. But… You’ll be with Ethan and helping to bring down The Syndicate. I know this is sudden, and that you probably want more time to mull it over, but I’m going to need an answer because, not that this will come as any great surprise to you, it’s going to change everything.”

“But...” As taken aback by this sudden turn of events as I was by what I know now to be his performance in the interrogation suite, I just don’t know what to say and continue to stare at Benji as though transfixed.

He…

Oh my God.

Benji knows a way for me to join Ethan.

We could finally be together and, hopefully, I could feel useful again. I wouldn’t have to go back to Langley and there’d be no more Hunley constantly breathing down my neck. 

But…

“What about Ethan?” I murmur hesitantly. “You don’t know how he’ll react to...”

“He’ll be fine,” Benji interrupts with an encouraging smile. “Believe me. He wants to see you as much as you want to see him. Besides, he’s lonely and sick of his own company, and you’ll be useful to have around.”

“Useful? Look at me. I fell down a flight of stairs and can barely move. I… I’d be a liability.”

“You’ll heal quick enough and can analyse data while he hits the streets. Come on, Will, I hate to do this to you, but I need your answer.”

“You’re… sure that he’ll be okay with it, and that I won’t be a liability?”

“Positive.”

“Then...” While I still have my doubts about both Ethan’s reaction to what will be my sudden, not to mention uninvited, arrival and whether or not I’ll actually be of any use to him, it’s not as though my answer was ever going to be anything else. “Yes. It may be a mistake, but, Benji, I… I need to see him. So… Yes. If you can get me to Ethan then… I accept your offer.”

“Brilliant!” Beaming, Benji gestures at my watch. “I take it you’ve got protection?”

“You’re just lucky I know what you mean by that, otherwise I’d have to tell you to mind your own business,” I retort with a quick, yet genuine laugh as I take my watch off and quickly pry open the back to the reveal the secret compartment by the battery. “But, yes… As you can see, I have protection,” I add, carefully removing the tiny silver chip that lives there and placing it on the centre of the phone. “Like we were saying earlier, the IMF always had the CIA beat for tech. If they so much as knew this is existed...”

“It’s a good job that they don’t,” Benji murmurs, putting the car into gear but keeping his foot on the brake as the phone and the chip sync up in order to scramble every single camera in the area of not only the route we’re about to take but also within a three mile radius. Instead of being able to catch a snap of our car, all they’ll record is static and if the CIA try to find my Audi from this point onward they’ll simply hit a brick wall. “Now… Are we good to go?”

“We’re now ghosts,” I confirm, watching a small green tick appear on the screen of the iPhone as I return the back to my watch before placing it back on my wrist.

“Then let’s disappear even further,” he replies, shifting his foot onto the accelerator and pulling away from the curb as what can only really be described as a somewhat evil looking grin stretches across his lips. “You do of course know that Hunley is really going to lose his shit when he realises that we’re not coming back.”

Seeing no need to pass comment on Benji’s casual way of letting it be known that he’s joining Ethan as well because, let’s face it, it only makes sense all – fucked up – things considered, I simply nod and settle back in my seat. “I almost wish I’d be around to see it.”

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t know. Watching him find increasingly creative ways to blame Ethan for everything that’s wrong in his world has had its moments.”

“As in...”

“Wondering what exactly his tipping point might be, and whether he’d go quietly when the men in white coats finally came to cart him away.”

“When you put it that way...” His expression turning serious, Benji glances at me as, deciding at the very last second possible that, okay, fine, he’d better stop at the red light, he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “You also realise that his first step will be to tear your life apart in the hope of finding something,” he states solemnly. “I’m sure it’s not something I need to tell you, but...”

“He can search all he likes,” I interrupt with a sigh. “Having hid everything I didn’t want to get CIA fingerprints all over on the very same night as the Senate Committee’s stupid decision, I have neither anything to hide nor anything of interest lying around.” Pausing, I quickly dismiss the flash of annoyance that washes over me at the thought of Hunley’s minions pawing their way through my house and belongings and add, “My only regret is not having thought to fill my bedside table with a collection of sex toys. You know, just to give them something to talk about.”

Benji laughs. “As regrets go, I have to say that’s certainly a good one. I also kind of wish you’d actually done it.”

“Mmm… Me too. But… As there’s nothing we can do to alter what’s about to happen, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“What will be, will be?”

“Pretty much.” Sitting up, I look over at Benji as he yet again startles me by changing lanes in a manner that immediately causes the driver of the car he’d just cut off to share his displeasure by pressing heavily on the horn. “Just out of curiosity here, how much time exactly did you get to share with Ethan in Vienna?”

“Not very long at all,” he replies, giving me a puzzled look. “Why?”

“I was just wondering if he’d had time to give you a quick driving lesson, that’s all,” I respond as, clearly viewing the red light in front of us as a mere suggestion as opposed to law, he presses his foot harder on the accelerator and sends the Audi shooting across the intersection. “Just… For God’s sake, Benji. I know I don’t know where we’re going, and I’ll get back to that in a moment, but if you don’t slow down I’m not entirely sure we’re even going to make it there in one piece!”

“You don’t think Ethan is a good driver?” Benji queries, glancing at the speedometer with what I take to be blatant disinterest.

“Good. Terrifying. It’s a fine line,” I mutter. “And right now I swear you’re channelling him.”

“Maybe I’m just a natural,” he retorts with a cheerful smile. “That, and maybe I just really, really want to get where I’m going.”

“And where would that be?” I ask, seizing on what I hope is the opening point to learning a little more about just what it is I’ve gotten myself in for. “And, while I’m at it, where’s Ethan? Surely he’s not in D.C..”

“Nice try,” Benji murmurs, chuckling as he glances over at me. “But all will be revealed once we’re on the plane. Yeah, yeah. I could bring you up to speed here, but it’ll just be easier on the plane and, before you ask, we’ll probably be there in ten or so minutes.”

“So we’re flying somewhere...”

“And just like that it’s immediately obvious why you’re considered the smart one. What gave it away?”

“Smart ass!” Although I know he’s only needling me to divert my attention, I can’t help but laugh. “I was just going to say that if I need a passport we’ll have to take a detour and stop along the way.”

Benji shakes his head. “The whole passport thing can be sorted once we’re in the air,” he replies. “Actually, I think you’ll like this. Remember Aaron Pickering, the IMF pilot that quit a year ago to look after his elderly parents? Well, now that they’re settled in a nursing home he’s got a new job that involves flying private jets around the world. You know, taking them to new owners, or flying them to wherever their owner needs them. Basically he flies under the radar, so to speak, and because he’s still loyal to IMF he’s proven invaluable in moments such as these.”

“And… Aaron’s waiting somewhere with a plane to sneak us out on?”

“Yep. In a private airfield not too far from here. We’ll leave your car in the hanger with the engine still running so that it will remain in ghost-mode until the fuel runs out and, when it does finally give up its location, we’ll be both days and thousands of miles away.”

“And… Ethan?”

“What part of… ‘I’ll explain on the plane’ are you struggling with?”

“I… Sorry. I know you’re under a lot of pressure here too, Benji, and I apologise if I sound like I’m badgering you or trying to put you on the spot. It’s just...”

“Your day isn’t going anywhere like how you’d planned it?” he offers both gently and with an unbothered smile. “It’s okay, Will. You’re not badgering me and, hey, as my day isn’t exactly going how I’d planned either, believe it or not I understand. You… You’ve just got to trust me, though. Once we’re on the plane I give you my word that I’ll answer every single one of your questions.”

“Thanks,” I reply, reaching out and briefly resting my hand on Benji’s shoulder. “And… Of course I trust you. I’m also grateful for how you’re handling this and just want you to know that, whatever happens, I appreciate everything you’ve both done, and are… doing. You’ve taken charge in a way that I admire and, while, sure, my day might not have gone to plan, I still know that this is where I’d rather be...” Trailing off, I pick up the water bottle that had somehow fallen between my feet and, after taking a drink, tilt my head back and close my eyes.

As Benji has already mentioned…

… What will be, will be.

Am I entirely convinced that Ethan’s going to greet my unexpected arrival with open arms? No. I’m not. He’s been doing the lone wolf thing for six months now and suddenly finding himself saddled with… baggage… may throw his no doubt carefully made plans into disarray. He may, all feelings aside, even resent my presence and react with anger or frustration. I like to think, and according to Benji’s take on things this should be the case, he’ll be happy to see me, but if he’s not I’ll simply cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, despite my doubts and fears, the anticipation and, yes, happiness I feel at knowing that I’ll finally get to be with him again is enough to keep me both calm and erring on the positive, ‘everything will work out, you’ll see’ side.

As for how Hunley is going to react and the state of my career? While I know it’s a blasé attitude to have, right now I simply don’t care. His minions can tear through my home and digital footprint all they like as I know they’re not going to find anything. He’s already had my life under a microscope ever since the CIA took over the IMF, so, really, being the object of such invasive attention isn’t anything new anyway. It’s not nice, and of course it pisses me off, but not only am I used to it but I also know there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Do I know what I’m getting myself into? No. I don’t. And, given that I’ve always been a firm believer in the whole ‘knowledge is power’ school of thought, if I was going to be concerned about anything this would be the one point that would get me. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know where Ethan is, or what it is he’s doing. Nor do I know anywhere near enough about this… Syndicate… as I would like to. 

Clothes, identification, money, weapons, however… As all of these items can be obtained easily enough, the one thing I know I don’t have to be concerned about is heading off into the great unknown with just the clothes on my back. 

Do I regret my snap decision to take Benji up on his unplanned offer of dropping everything to be reunited with Ethan? Perhaps I should, given that what I don’t know outweighs what little I do know, but I don’t. I don’t regret it for a second. Langley doing its damnedest to suck all the life out of me, I’d rather feel as though I was finally doing something, regardless of the consequences, than just continue on as I have been.

Plus…

… Ethan.

I’m going to get to see Ethan, who I love and have been lost without, and that alone is enough to convince me that I’ve made the right decision.

“Assuming you’re still awake, we’re here,” Benji announces, his voice breaking through my reverie and causing me to both open my eyes and sit up a little straighter. 

“Of course I’m still awake,” I reply, looking out through the windscreen at a small airfield that I don’t recall ever having laid eyes on before. “I was just...”

“Resting your eyes. Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to tell me,” he responds, giving me a quick – ‘I’m on to you’ – amused look as he drives the car past a small two storey building with sandwich boards out the front offering both flying lessons and joy flights and heads towards the largest of the four hangers. “Seriously though… You’re good, yeah?”

“I’m good,” I confirm as, turning my head to look out the side window, I watch a two seater plane make a very average looking landing on the runway. “Far better, I suspect, than either the pilot or instructor of that plane over there. Did you see it? I didn’t think it was even going to get it’s wheels on the tarmac, let alone keep them there.”

“I saw it. And like you, I’m just glad they actually made it,” Benji replies, pulling a face as he glances one last time at the plane before driving the Audi directly into the hanger and bringing it to a stop by a shipping container set up by the back wall that’s been modified into a very basic looking office. “I’m also glad that the plane we’re going in,” he adds, gesturing towards the gleaming Learjet parked in the middle of the hanger, “is a hell of a lot bigger than it. That, and our pilot is actually someone I trust.” Glancing at me as he turns the ignition to accessory mode in order to keep the USB port powering both the phone and all the tech it’s running, Benji smiles and reaches for the door handle as Aaron Pickering walks out of the office and nods a silent greeting. “You ready for this?”

“Ready, willing, and waiting,” I respond as I open the door and, with the bottle of water still clutched in my hand, slowly climb out the car. Although my body complains a little at being made to move after so long sitting in the car, I ignore it and solely for the benefit of Aaron who’s looking at me with obvious concern draw myself up to my full height.

“I see we’ve picked up a passenger,” Aaron, a tall, fair haired man who looks both a lot happier and healthier than when I last saw him, states with a smile as Benji gets out of the car and makes his way over to him. “Is there anything else I should know before take off?”

“Only that we’ll shortly be joined by another two,” Benji replies cryptically as Aaron reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out an iPhone that he immediately hands over to him. “Thanks. Will… Why don’t you go with Aaron and make yourself comfortable in the plane? I’ll join you after I’ve made a call.”

“Uh… Sure.” Feeling, yet again, as though I have no idea what’s going on here, I try unsuccessfully to catch Benji’s eye before, with a shrug, catching up with Aaron as he starts to walk towards the plane. “Why do I get the feeling that everyone knows more than I do,” I mutter under my breath as, this time, Aaron actually goes so far as to frown as he glances at me.

“No offence, Will, but what on earth has happened to you?” he queries as, reaching the jet, we come to a stop by the stairs. “From what I’d heard you’ve been stuck in an office, not out having your ass handed to you out in the field.”

“Having my ass handed to me in the field would at least make for a more interesting story than the boring truth of falling down a flight of stairs,” I reply with a grimace as Aaron’s frown quickly gives way to a look of sympathy. “Needless to say it’s not something I really want to talk about it.”

“Funny, that,” he retorts, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze as he gestures towards the stairs with his other hand. “Still, it’s good to see you and I hope you feel better in no time. Now… Why don’t you go inside while I start the pre-flight check? I’m sure once the others arrive he’ll be wanting us in the air as quickly as possible.”

“Uh… Sure,” I repeat as, once again dutifully doing as I’m told, I slowly make my way up the stairs and into the luxuriously appointed Learjet The others? Benji’s statement of being joined by another two passengers? Not liking how no-one seems willing to come out and tell me anything straight, I try to fight off the tendrils of doubt that are beginning to creep into my head and have just settled on forcefully concentrating on thoughts of getting to see Ethan, and how they win out over everything else, when, after dropping the water bottle onto a seat…

… I see it.

A newspaper. Placed on a small table between two chairs.

Dull. Uninteresting.

I can’t even see which of the world’s newspapers it actually is.

It’s not just a newspaper though. 

No.

It’s a sign.

It’s a sign that I’ve made a mistake.

I…

I can’t do this.

I can’t, regardless of how much I want to, just up and leave.

Selfish.

Stupid.

It was both stupid and selfish of me to even contemplate abandoning my responsibilities. 

Shit, shit, shit!

Spinning around as, just like in the interrogation suite, I begin to feel both light headed and sick to the stomach, I stumble towards the door and, too focused on my need to get out of here to be paying any attention, crash directly into Benji.

“Hey!” he exclaims, placing both his hands flat on my chest and causing me to come to a sudden stop. “Whoa… Will? What’s the matter?”

“I...” Shaking my head, I take a step back from Benji in the sole hope of being able to work out a way to get past him. “I’m sorry, but I… I’ve got to go. This… This was a mistake.”

“What are you talking about? What’s a mistake?” Knowing full well what I plan to do, Benji folds his arms across his chest and effectively blocks my exit. “Will? Calm down. As I’ve been trying to get through to you all along, everything is fine.”

“No! You’re not listening. I’ve got stay. The paper...”

“The paper? What’s the paper got to do with anything?”

“You don’t understand! The New York Times. That’s how I communicate with Ethan! I use the classifieds to let him know when Hunley’s getting too close and… and if I leave he’ll be on his own, and I… I can’t. I’m sorry, Benji, but I can’t leave Langley as I need to stay there to continue to protect Ethan. I should have thought of it sooner, but I didn’t and I… I’m sorry. I really am, but I’ve got to go. You’ve got to let me pass!”

“Oh! Is that all you’re on about?” Benji, to both my shock and annoyance, replies with quite a large smile as he returns his hands to my chest and pushes me backwards towards the bench seat against the right side of the plane. “You don’t need to worry about staying one step ahead of Hunley as I covered that by slipping a bug into his phone as he marched me in to the interrogation suite. So.. Chill. It’s fine. You don’t need to stay behind as it’s covered.”

“I...” Benji’s response – achieving what the rest of this incredibly odd morning hasn’t – taking the wind completely out of my sails, I feel an odd, breathless sense of defeat settle over me as I slump down onto the seat and bury my face in my hands. “So… I’m redundant,” I whisper. “I thought… That is, I hoped… I was doing something useful, that...”

“Hey… Not redundant,” Benji states, sounding a little breathless himself as he crouches down in front of me and gently pulls my hands away from my face. “Not redundant at all. More… Free.”

“Free… Isn’t that just another way of saying not...”

“Shh...” Leaning forward, Benji releases my hands and lightly places the tip of his finger against my lips. “Of course you’re needed. I need you...”

Recoiling, both physically from Benji’s far too familiar and inappropriate touch, and… mentally… from his decidedly alarming declaration, I shake my head and press my back up against the seat. “Benji… I...”

“Benji? Shit! Sorry! No wonder you’re looking so mortified,” he exclaims, quite literally bouncing on his feet as he stands up and reaches under the neckline of his T-shirt. “You know, these things are getting so good that I honestly forget I’m even wearing them,” he continues cheerfully as he tugs on something under his top for a second or two before, with all the showmanship of an actor, swiftly pulling his face off.

Face.

Hair.

Eye colour.

Within a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment, Benji disappears before my eyes and…

Standing there in his place…

… Is Ethan.

A little flush from the mask.

A little older and tired looking.

A little different from when I last saw him, and looking more than a little odd clad in Benji’s clothes.

But…

… It’s him.

It’s really him.

And I’m so shocked by this that I have literally been rendered speechless. In fact, I can’t think of a single thing to say and just gaze at him, wide eyed and no doubt open mouthed, as though I’m in some sort of stupor.

He’s here…

He’s really here.

Standing in front of me and starting to look slightly worried.

Which means…

What?

If the man I truly believed – or perhaps that should be, ‘accepted’ – to be Benji is actually Ethan, then…

Dear God, I’m so confused.

“I’d say… ‘surprise’, but as that really would be redundant,” Ethan states, dropping the mask onto the floor as, smiling hopefully, he holds his hand out towards me, “I think I’ll have to settle instead for this...” His smile broadening, he takes my hand in his and, once I’ve finally shown some signs of life by slowly closing my fingers around his, gently pulls me upright. He then, as my brain fails dismally in its attempts to get a grip on what’s going on and I continue to give every impression as though I’m in danger of having a stroke, releases my hand and envelopes me in an immediately familiar and deeply reassuring hug. “Come on, William. Get with the program. Everything is going to be okay.”

It…

It’s Ethan’s voice.

The voice chip having clearly been ripped off with the mask, I’m hearing my lover’s voice for the first time in six months, and…

Honestly. As moments of clarity go, it’s like some sort of fucking miracle.

I recognise his voice, and I know – in every inch of my body – the feel of his arms around me, and as I slide my arms around his waist and hug him back, what I also know is that he’s right, that…

Everything is going to be okay.

It, the bigger picture, hell, even the events of this morning, mightn’t make all that much sense yet, but nor does it matter.

“Now, that’s better,” Ethan whispers, planting a light kiss on my forehead as, emboldened by the unshakeable belief that this is actually real, I press my body against his and rest my head on his shoulder. “I know that your overly logical brain would have to be struggling with all of this, but trust me, everything is not only all okay, but also for the best. Once Benji and Luther join us we’ll be on our way to a very promising lead in Morocco, and from there we’ll finish The Syndicate. Together. It may not have been the original plan, but I already know that this one, the one where we’re all together, is the one that’s going to work.”

Morocco?

Sure. Why not.

And Benji and Luther are coming along for the ride.

Brilliant.

“Okay… As it would appear you’re still not quite ready to talk yet,” Ethan murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down my back, “allow me to get a bit more explaining out of the way… Everything I told you in the car was basically the truth. I got Benji to Vienna under false pretences because, yes, I wanted his technical assistance in finding the four-eyed bastard I believe to be the head of The Syndicate. And, yes, he was absolutely meant to bring you along for the ride as well. When I realised that he’d come alone I was disappointed, but when, and this is completely glossing over how everything went to shit at the opera house, he explained why it was he hadn’t been able to bring you, all I could think about was needing to see you. The Chancellor’s death, having lost once again to The Syndicate, the lead that had popped up in Morocco… Suddenly none of it mattered as all I knew was that, somehow, I had to see you. Not a day had gone by that I hadn’t missed you, but knowing that you were hurt… Shit. I know I’m repeating myself here, but I just had to see you.”

He…

… Had to see me.

Me.

All the risk, and the effort, and the interruption to his self-imposed mission, was…

… For me.

“I… I’ve missed you, too,” I whisper hoarsely as, still not ready to let him go, I continue clinging to him as though my very life depended on it. “Unbearably so, but… The risk… You shouldn’t...”

“As the risk wasn’t any greater than the one you’ve been taking to get information to me,” he interrupts, “it’s not something that even needs to be mentioned. Besides, I thought I had it all covered. By coming in as Benji I could not only see you, but I could also feed Hunley some bullshit before, having killed the two proverbial birds with the one stone, slipping away and letting the real Benji take over. And… Before you ask, yes, my half-assed plan had simply been to see you without… uh… letting you see me. Dumb, I know, but at the time I thought it was the way to go. Then… Well… Hearing how unhappy and… beaten down… you were, my carefully made plans went up in smoke and, although the ball was always going to be firmly in your court, I just had to ask you to come with me...” 

Pausing, he gently breaks the embrace and, taking a small step back, closes his hands around my upper arms as he looks me directly in the eye, raw emotion written all over his face. “I know I could have gone about things better, and I’m sorry for both leaving you to deal with Hunley for six months and for fucking you around this morning, but what I’m not sorry for is… this,” he continues, a warm smile softening his features. “I’m not sorry that I couldn’t stick to my plan, and I’m certainly not sorry that you’re here as I realise now, better late than never, that I need you. Will... I don’t just love you, I… need… you. Not because you’re brilliant and an incredible asset, but because just seeing you makes me feel better and gives me the strength to go on. I… I’ll understand if...”

“There’s no ifs,” I state, cupping my hands around Ethan’s cheeks. “There’s never been any ifs, just… doing what we have to do,” I add thickly as, the time having come for actions to speak louder that words, I lean forward and lightly press my lips against his for a few brief seconds before, as they part beneath mine and I can feel his entire body relax, settling in for a proper kiss. A kiss born of equal parts relief, need, and simple, unabashed joy. There’s more to be said, of course there is. In fact, I suspect there’s a lot more to be said, along with questions that may be hard to ask and even harder to answer.

For now though…

… None of it matters.

The past is just that, and the future beckons.

~ end ~


End file.
